


seeking balance

by flags



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: sherlock shindig
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-12
Updated: 2012-08-12
Packaged: 2017-11-11 23:48:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/484249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flags/pseuds/flags
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>for the prompt: equilibrioception.<br/>After the fall during their three year separation something goes wrong with Sherlock and John's sense of balance in a very literal way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	seeking balance

When Sherlock had jumped from on top of the hospital, John had blamed his sudden unsteadiness on a mixture of shock and stress and concussion by bicyclist.

That didn’t explain why it persisted, his therapist thought his dizzy spells were psychosomatic, like his returned limp. John had some tests done anyway and his doctor friends who he had called the favour on for an appointment had told him that there was nothing physically or chemically wrong with either his brain or his inner ear.

This meant that the way he was prone to sudden bouts of vertigo and nausea, the dizzy spells, all had no explanation.

 ————

Sherlock, while thanking Molly and preparing himself to disappear and go underground, so to speak, after the jump had found himself curiously dizzy. Pushing through it he managed to slip into obscurity, the homeless network silently accepting him into them as he avoided recognition and collected what information he could on Moriarty’s crime web. The mysterious sense of unbalance didn’t really go away, fading in and out in terms of severity, but he tried to utilize it to his advantage by feigning inebriation.

————-

John was frequently thankful for the cane to lean on when the dizziness would hit during a walk. He went for walks more and more frequently. This was partially from a need to escape the suffocating atmosphere of 221b, which still held echoes of Sherlock’s presence in marks on the walls. It was also a form of defiance to the dizziness that so frequently overcame him, to show that he could still function and push on even if it was through aimless wandering around London. Sometimes the spinning got so strong that he had to anchor himself against the nearest wall and shut his eyes against the feeling of the world rolling swiftly around him. Most pedestrians avoided him, assuming he was mental or high or who knows what but not wanting to get involved, and John was thankful for this as it allowed him at least the slightest delusion of normality when no one tried to discuss it with him. 

————-

Sherlock had been chasing down one of Moriarty’s now ex-employed criminal underlings when he was suddenly struck by an intense sensation of spinning that unbalanced him to the extent of having him stumble sideways into trashcans. The nausea caused by the feeling made him empty the content’s of his stomach and then cling desperately against a wall to avoid falling in it. While waiting for the feeling to pass he curse the fact that this stupid condition had allowed a very importune thread in Moriarty’s web to get away from him. The problem was that he was unable to discern any real pattern in the reaction; their appearance was never consistent with any emotional or physical catalysts that could explain it. He didn’t have time for another mystery when such an important one lay before him.

 ——————

John gradually adapted to the constant dizzy spells, they never lessened in their intensity or frequency but he learned how to cope with them, how to know when one was coming and prepare for it. Eventually he managed to get another job at a small clinic, something low pressure enough that he didn’t have to worry about distressing the patients by quietly exuding himself to his office so he could ride out the spinning in peace.

He had tried to get back into the dating scene but too many women saw all the sadness and pain in him and felt unable to handle it, or so John though, no one wanted something broken. And that’s what he was after all; a lonely, wounded ex soldier with a faulty equilibrium and a whole lot of issues centered around a dead fraud. Even when dead his association with Sherlock often seemed to define him, people occasionally looking at him with barely concealed scorn or pity (or both). The fact of the matter was that his life was so out of balance without Sherlock anyway that his problem with staying upright only completed it.

—————— 

Slowly, over the course of three years, Sherlock travel and tracked down every inch of Moriarty’s residual crime empire. Carefully exposing each piece to the authorities and narrowly evading recognition or discovery by anyone that matters.

There was only one left now, a sniper, ex-army man (ejected for poor conduct and insubordination but incredibly skilled) and the closing thing to a right hand man that Jim Moriarty was capable of. The problem was that Sherlock’s continued existence had been alerted to this Sebastian Moran and it was now a matter of drawing him out into doing something foolish enough to allow capture. Sherlock had a fairly good plan for this, considering the sniper’s vengeful feelings about his no longer living employer it shouldn’t be too difficult to coax him into making a mistake, however it required exposing himself somewhat and with his ever persistent dizzy spells there was a certain danger in that.

Much as he was loath to admit he would need some assistance to draw things to a close, and even with the numbing span of three year Sherlock still felt more vulnerable without the knowledge that John would be there beside him. Every break through he had had felt strangely hollow without having the doctor to share it with. And these accursed dizzy spells would have been infinitely more bearable if he had John to complain to about them.

Digging through the charity bin at a homeless shelter for clothes that could pass as respectable beacon to muse aloud to himself, to those at the shelter just another mumbling vagrant.

“I think it’s time for a little reunion.”

 —————

It had been Mrs. Hudson who had alerted him to the empty flat across the road.

“Quite a nice property, a bit old fashioned, but still lovely, I can get you the key from the agent if you want to have a look? Wouldn’t that be nice? You can move in somewhere close and we can catch up more often. And it’s a good deal nicer that that dreadful little place you’re in now.”

John had reluctantly agreed to inspect the flat, not thrilled by the prospect of living so close to a reminder of Sherlock but supposing just a look wouldn’t do any harm. And looking at the place it was a wonder the owner was putting it up for rent at all, it was very nice and the window looking out on the street had a direct view to the living room window of 221b. Suddenly John was struck by a surge of vertigo and he quickly moved away from the window, clenching his eyes shut.

The whirling continued and John felt as though he was being tossed about in some sort of carnival ride, gritting his teeth against the sensation he barely registered a familiar voice saying “John?”

He opened his eyes, and then reeled as everything seemed to screech to a halt. In front of him stood Sherlock Holmes.

 ————— 

After tolerating a rather excessive amount of reprimands from Mycroft at his faking his own death, it had been simple enough to set up the clearing and advertising of the flat and organize for Mycroft’s henchmen to keep an eye on it. The location would be too perfect a temptation for Moran to resist and he would have the sniper exactly where he wanted while making him think he had Sherlock exactly where he wanted.

But Sherlock couldn’t resist one last bit of dramatic flare and had the owner of the flat, who was so graciously cooperating, to have tea with Mrs. Hudson and mention the flat. Dear old Mrs. Hudson would of course tell John about it.

It was then simply a matter of secreting himself away in the linen cupboard and waiting.

His plan had almost gone to waste when waiting for John to finish inspecting the room, hearing him shuffle around outside the cupboard had suddenly triggered the dizzying reaction in Sherlock and he found himself slumped against the door trying desperately to stay on his feet and it felt like the enclosed space was spinning round and round. Finally pushing past the overwhelming sensations he opened the door to the cupboard, stepped out, and lurched as the motion stopped the moment he laid eyes on John, exhaling his name in surprise.

 ——————— 

When John opened his eyes again Sherlock was leaning over him, a hand steadying his head as he scanned the doctor’s eyes for any signs of a concussion.

“You fainted.”

John let out a helpless laugh; oh it had been so long since he last laughed.

“I’m getting that, yeah.”

He tried to sit up but Sherlock gripped his shoulders tightly, holding him in place.

“It must have been quite a shock, I-”

Sherlock’s eyes darted away from his nervously.

"I owe you a thousand apologies. I didn’t think you’d be so affected, although,”

his tentative smile held a trace of pain to it, minute though it was John found that he still recalled Sherlock’s expressions well enough to still be fluent in every little twitch.

“If what you went through was anything like what I did then I can understand, I suppose.”

John wanted to ask what he meant, John wanted to ask a lot of things but what came out was

“Well I guess we’re even for when I had to drag you back from Irene’s while you were all floppy.”

The exchanged a look and burst into simultaneous hysterical giggles.

Once he had calmed down a bit John sat up and managed to ask

“But Sherlock, really, how are you- Just how?”

So Sherlock told him.

John may have punched him a bit harder than intended for it but even with a bruised face Sherlock continued to grin at him as he explained the events of the past three years. John told a much less interesting account of his past three years.

Neither mentioned the loss of balance thing but both suspected in the pleasantly surprised reaction the other had as they took down the second most dangerous man in the world. The two of them once again working together in perfect synchronisation that was unhindered by clumsy fumbling. For the first time in three years they were perfectly balanced.


End file.
